


Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies

by CatKing_Catkin



Series: Safe, Sane, Consensual [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Breathplay, Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Choking, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Dom Caleb Widogast, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Forced Prostitution, Healthy Relationships, Hurt Caleb Widogast, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Kink Negotiation, Leashes, Light BDSM, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Miscommunication, Molestation, Mollymauk Tealeaf Lives, Oral Sex, POV Mollymauk Tealeaf, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Safeword Use, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Inexperience, Spans multiple episodes, Starvation, Sub Mollymauk Tealeaf, Tender Sex, Triggers, Underage Rape/Non-con, Wax Play, Wet Dream, but only at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 03:25:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17758880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: So he wasn't a virgin anymore.Yasha had asked him if hiring a couple of companions for his first time might have been excessive even by his standards. But really, as far as Molly was concerned, it had been the only sensible choice. How better to make sure his introduction to sex was good than to get a professional involved - two professionals, even, to make sure the bases were really covered.Or at least, he'd thought the bases were covered.Then he'd started getting Caleb talking.(Written for the Critical Role kink meme. The prompt was for a take where Molly is actually very sexually inexperienced - he's only been alive two years after all - and Caleb is actually sexually experienced, but for entirely terrible reasons related to his past. Miscommunication happens resulting in a mutual panic attack, followed by actual communication and eventual healthy kinky fluff.)





	Ask Me No Questions, I'll Tell You No Lies

So he wasn't a virgin  _anymore._    
  
Yasha had asked him if hiring a couple of  _companions_  for his first time might have been excessive even by his standards. But really, as far as Molly was concerned, it had been the only sensible choice. How better to make sure his introduction to sex was good than to get a professional involved -  _two_  professionals, even, to make sure the bases were  _really_  covered.   
  
Or at least, he'd thought the bases were covered. Then he'd started getting Caleb talking. 

It had started innocently enough once they got back on the road, a plan to rile him up just a bit by asking him to describe some of the smutty books he seemed so surprisingly fond of. After all, Caleb was even more adorable when he was blushing.  
  
Then Molly had discovered that, even more surprisingly, smutty books and the contents thereof were something that Caleb could discuss with an ease that could only be born of  _extensive_ experience. He could  _critique_  the smutty books and the plausibility of their contents. He could  _reference_  his past experiences. He did this obliquely, certainly, and ever-so-carefully, but Molly could still piece together that much. The worst part was that it didn't even seem to be a game to him! It just seemed to be a fact, as dry and natural as drawing arcane symbols or turning silver into gold for an hour.  
  
Molly realized then that he'd gotten in way over his head.  
  
But really, hadn't that been the story of his life so far? So much of his life had consisted of pretending to be bigger and brighter than he really was, pretending that he was something beyond a bundle of learned instincts and fireside tales and blood powers he still couldn't entirely control. People wouldn't look twice at a barker who couldn't bark larger than life.   
  
He wanted Caleb's attention more than he'd ever wanted it from all the people in any backwoods bar in his short life. So he had to step up his game. He'd talked Cree into believing he was Lucien going on nothing more than a hug and a few names, he'd talked an entire inn into believing he was a reincarnated king of Marquet when he hadn't even been alive three weeks.  
  
Surely he could talk Caleb into believing he wasn't as  _desperately_  inexperienced as he really was.   
  
(Because he knew there were so many reasons that Caleb wouldn't want him, wouldn't want to waste his time and attentions on a loud, gaudy tiefling who didn't read well and couldn't have understood magic if his life depended on it and really the only thing they had in common was that they thought Frumpkin was just the best and so at least, at  _least_  Molly could prove he could be a good fuck if Caleb ever decided to relieve some of his ever-present stress.  
  
He'd learned a lot more a lot faster for the sake of being useful so as not to be left alone.)

*  *  *

Caleb wasn’t quite sure how circumstances had led to them discussing sex in all its permutations. Then again, when you spent whole days at a time around the same group of people with nothing but empty terrain for miles around to occupy your attention, boundaries tended to blur and a lot of things suddenly became acceptable if only as a way to pass the damn time.  
  
Besides, he was pretty sure this started at least in part because Molly was interested in the books Caleb and Jester had brought back from Chastity’s Nook despite being functionally literate at best. And Caleb was always happy to encourage someone’s interest in books. He even helped Molly work his way through a couple of the more interesting pages.  
  
Arcane tomes and magical texts would always be Caleb’s favorites, but tawdry romances had earned a place in his heart all the same. They were cheap and common and they gave him the feeling he itched for of paper beneath his fingers and pages turning. They also let him pretend that romance and love were things he could have. For just a little while, he could be in someone else’s head, in a place where kisses and sex and vulnerability were something to aspire to and enjoy, rather than something to endure or trade for what you needed. For just a little while, even if only for an hour, he could be free of the nest of thorns and brokenness in his own head.  
  
(An hour at a time was about as much as he deserved, if that.)  
  
Unfortunately, books – even objectively bad books – tended to be the one point where Caleb let his guard down. So even as he tried to simply talk objectively about the contents of whatever lurid story Molly was fascinated in, details of his own…experiences kept bleeding in, despite his intentions. The only consolation there was that he was able to tease out details of Molly’s sex life as well and honestly, those were details that Caleb found far more interesting than those that could be found in either his books or his past.  
  
(He tried not to think too much about why. He tried not to dwell too long about why having Molly’s attention so thoroughly focused on him as of late did warm and exciting things to his heart and made the pit of his stomach go tight. Caleb was good at stubbornly ignoring thoughts, putting them on a shelf where they belonged and pretending they weren’t there.)  
  
Mollymauk Tealeaf really had lived a charmed life. Caleb might have been jealous, except he’d unlearned jealousy well before Molly had even been alive. You could only be jealous if you thought you deserved more than what you had, after all. But all the experience Caleb had had to acquire, Molly had chosen to acquire and then some. Every time Caleb accidentally let something slip, Molly had a story to match and surpass it. Honestly, Caleb appreciated it, the seemingly effortless changes in subject to save him from potentially awkward questions and decidedly bad memories. It really did seem to be true that, even if Molly enjoyed teasing them all indiscriminately, he had a good sense of where Caleb’s limits were, socially speaking.  
  
“So there were five of us and then the cook walked in…” Molly said one day.  
  
Or: “…and I couldn’t so much as twitch my tail, and that’s why I still use that knot to this day.”  
  
“The things you can do to someone with a blindfold, a gag, a feather, and the right pair of boots, I tell you…”  
  
“I once brought a donkey and a honeycomb into a brothel…”

And the only stories Caleb could have offered in turn were:  
  
_Trent’s breath ghosting warm on his cheek or Trent’s hand in his hair and his teacher’s voice telling him that he had to be good and not make a sound. The enemies of the Empire might do anything to him and so he had to learn to endure._  
  
_He’d learned to do that and Trent had praised him, called him good and strong and obedient, and Caleb had hoarded that praise in his heart because he never earned it half as easily on his feet as he did on his knees or bent over a desk._  
  
_One time Astrid had walked in on them and Trent had finished with Caleb and left him on the floor to recover while he took her next._  
  
_Trent had never had to tie him down but others had, the ones who had something he needed in exchange for an hour, two hours, a night of unfettered access to his body. Even if he’d agreed and had every intention of honoring those deals, no one ever truly trusted a wizard who still had his mouth or hands free. Even the ones who couldn’t tell he was a wizard had just liked having power and control over him, and grabbed as much as they could take._  
  
_Before meeting Nott, he’d put himself through that only for materials or information he needed to advance his goals, because he wasn’t allowed to lay down and die until he’d fixed his mistakes. He’d otherwise been content to starve untouched when it became necessary, and there were too many nights when it had become necessary. After meeting Nott, the sight of her gripped by hunger pains or shaking with weariness had suddenly become one of the most awful, unbearable sights in all the world because Nott was his little friend, his only friend, he wanted to take care of her like he had wanted little else for so long._  
  
_So sometimes, when things got bad, when the woods were empty of anything but lizards or the snows were especially deep, Caleb would wash his face in the nearest stream, then go into town and try to attract the right sort of attention. The ones who pulled him into alleyways or behind inns never bound him with ropes or cloth but they would still cover his mouth or pin his hands or hold his head no matter how starved and fragile he seemed, because it was one of the fundamental truths of life that people just liked having power over one another and would happily pay a few coppers for the privilege._  
  
_It was a principle he and Nott relied heavily on, when they were finally strong enough to start running cons together. He was so desperately, pathetically grateful that she’d made that suggestion, even if he tried never to think of why she might have been driven on to do so._  
  
The worst part was that he still sometimes dreamed of those nights, got lost in a tangle of feverish impressions and half-formed recollections of too many hands and mouths, of unwanted heat inside and around him.  
  
No, that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he’d wake up hard from those dreams, and when he bit his fingers to keep quiet and brought himself to completion, it was with those memories still in his head, so that even that brief relief was tinged with sickness and shame.  
  
Except one night, as he closed his fingers around his cock, biting back a whimper because even that slight sensation was enough to make him throb, Molly shifted in his sleep a short distance away, mumbling incoherently. Caleb’s gaze went to him on instinct, and he saw the tiefling’s tail twitching faintly as he dreamed. He wondered what Molly was dreaming about and somehow that thought shifted in his arousal-fevered brain into wondering if Molly dreamed like Caleb did about the things he’d done in the past. And somehow that set off a new rush of imaginings, thinking of Molly having sex, seeking it out, enjoying it and probably making whoever he was with feel so, so good…  
  
He came hard and sweet and good, unable to swallow back a faint whine as his hips twitched and shuddered into the pressure of his fist. And when it was done, when Caleb had wiped his hand on a discreet patch of grass and rolled back over, somehow he found himself feeling relaxed for the first time in days.

*  *  *

All right, he and Caleb were both _just slightly_ drunk when they decided they were going to finally take this plunge, but not so drunk that any decision they made was inherently a bad one. Just enough to make them brave enough to stop dancing around this issue that had been hanging over their heads for weeks.   
  
And the watered-down ale wasn’t half as intoxicating as the kisses, as the feeling of  _reciprocation_  and  _acceptance_. Caleb's mouth was warm and sweet, with a strange tang of ozone to it that made Molly wonder if magic had a taste. The first brush of the other man's tongue against his made it feel like a live spark had shot down Molly's spine from the base of his skull to the tip of his tail.  
  
By the time they finally stumbled up to a room and locked the door behind them, he was well and truly drunk on sentiment and want, his brain as full of fuzzy pink fog as if he'd just downed the Pillow Trove's top shelf wine. So he wasn’t remotely been in the mood to talk too much or think too far when Caleb pulled away long enough to take a breath and murmur: "I, I know there is a lot you have done but, ah, is there anything we shouldn't do?"  
  
No, Molly was so distracted by how Caleb's pupils were blown so wide in his pretty blue eyes and how red Caleb's lips were from kissing and how his cock was starting to become a heavy, insistent weight, aching for friction and touch. So he just smiled and chirped: "You know me, I'm game for anything exciting. Consider me at your disposal, Mister Caleb."   
  
Then he went right back to kissing Caleb, and felt Caleb  _sigh_  into his mouth and  _relax_  under his hands. With that decided, they both got one another dragged towards the bed.   
  
It all started so  _well._  The more they stripped each other down, the more confident Caleb seemed to get, like he was slipping on a second skin that Molly had never seen before. He didn’t just get confident, he got  _commanding_ , too, telling Molly how to lay, what to do. And that was far, far more exciting than Molly had ever thought it could be, more than it had half a right to be. Somehow, it also felt  _safe_  in the same breath. It didn’t matter that he was inexperienced, Caleb knew what to do. Caleb would  _take care of him_ , and somehow that thought went right down to his bones, relaxing to a degree he had never known and didn’t understand.   
  
Caleb retrieved a small bottle of sweet oil from one of the many pockets of his coat, got Molly’s fingers good and slick, and talked him through getting himself ready while Caleb sat back and watched. And that was good, that was  _so good_ , Molly had always loved having an audience and having Caleb staring at him with hunger in his eyes like Molly was the most beautiful thing in the world was better than he’d ever dreamed. “Now spread your fingers, slowly,  _slowly_ …”  
  
When Caleb deemed Molly was ready, he drew close to him once more until he was half-straddling the tiefling, his hands on the tiefling’s shoulders to urge him down quite insistently. Molly obeyed, falling onto his back, with Caleb’s warm weight on top of him, pressing him down into the mattress. Dimly, a touch distantly, he felt the other man’s hands fumbling for his own, taking hold of them, lacing their fingers together in a way that made Molly’s heart feel full and tender.   
  
Without breaking their joined grasps, he pressed Molly’s hands against the mattress on either side of his head, then leaned in close to kiss him again, hot and deep and hungry. Molly let his eyes fall closed and parted his lips easily, willingly, welcoming Caleb into his mouth, thinking dizzily of what a good picture this made, how he wished he could see how they looked right now from the outside.   
  
When Caleb finally pulled away, Molly got his first sign that something might be wrong, that some delicate  _thing_  was about to wobble off its axis. It took him a moment before his vision cleared enough to see his face. What he saw there made his heart stutter with the beginnings of dread, made the first hints of doubt and concern rise up in the back of his throat like bile. Caleb’s eyes were distant, and his shoulders were tense, and maybe it was something in the way the dimly lit room threw harsh shadows over his face from this angle, but he looked almost like a cold, closed off stranger.  
  
“Lie still,” Caleb whispered, something deeper and darker than lust in his words that Molly couldn’t have begun to know the name to. “Be good.”

And Molly wanted to ask what that  _meant_  but he could already feel Caleb getting into position, could feel the blunt press of the human’s cock at his hole. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, heard Caleb groan softly as he rolled his hips forward, felt the brief moment of pressure before Caleb slipped inside him.  
  
It really did feel  _good_  even if something else, something in the air, felt  _off_. But soon, he was well past the point of dwelling on that, possibly past the point of even knowing what day it was. Caleb built up his pleasure slowly, steadily, with a relentless rhythm of snapping his hips in hard and then dragging himself out in a wickedly slow release. Soon, Molly found himself lost easily to the friction and burn and sweet pleasure-pain of it all, gasping out shameless pleas for more, squirming and writhing beneath Caleb, moving his hands to fist and tug at Caleb's hair--  
  
Only to let out a startled yelp as Caleb grabbed his hands forcibly and shoved them back down on either side of his head again. His eyes flew open for all the good it did because for a bad, bad moment he didn’t even  _recognize_  the man on top of him. Caleb was panting far more than even their current position should have made him do, his eyes were wide and wild and  _much too bright._  
  
“I told you to be still,” he whispered and the words were aimed  _at_  Molly but it was like Caleb was talking to someone else, staring right through him at some awful, private hell. “You need to keep still, you need to be good, you have to  _listen._ ” And Molly was too off balance, too focused on struggling to breathe through the panic and  _understand_  through the strangeness, to feel Caleb’s hands sliding down his arms and up to his throat until he felt the fingers closing tight.  
  
And then tighter.   
  
Surprise made him choke, losing what scant air he had in his lungs. Words were well beyond him by then, chased back into the hidden corners of his mind by the fear, and that fear only grew sharper as Molly felt himself starting to go dizzy. “This is for your own good,” he heard Caleb saying, as if from at the other end of a tunnel, heedless of Molly scrabbling at his hands to try and make him  _let go_. “If you can’t keep quiet I have to make you, it’s for your own good, you have to understand.”  
  
He was going to die. He was going to die here and Caleb wasn’t even going to know he’d done it until too late and he was scared, he didn’t want to die, he was sorry sorry sorry he’d never wanted this to happen…  
  
Acting entirely on instinct and base, animal terror, Molly brought one hand up and raked his nails down Caleb’s face. Caleb let go with a cry, falling back, falling off and clutching at his face. As air returned to his lungs, the sense of the eye mark on his back starting to bleed – entirely without conscious thought on his part - felt even sharper than it normally did. He saw Caleb’s eyes go black, saw tears of blood start to leak from the corners of them, and Molly took his chance to shove himself  _off_  the bed and  _away._  
  
Except, in his panic, he shoved himself on the wrong side of the bed and was confronted with nothing but a wall. He looked back and the door was on the other side of the bed and  _Caleb_  was on the other side of the bed, wiping at his eyes and then staring at his hands and shaking like a leaf. Molly couldn’t make himself move closer, he couldn’t couldn’t  _couldn’t_.  
  
So he found himself curled up in the corner -- naked, wordless, panicking.  
  
Mollymauk Tealeaf had gotten in over his head, and this time he'd nearly drowned.

*  *  *

As he slowly came back to himself, the first thing he knew was the sound of Caleb crying softly, mumbling to himself in a fast, broken stream of Zemnian.

The second thing he realized was that Caleb was trying not to be heard, which was even worse. There was a part of Molly that wanted to go to him, talk to him, comfort him, but his limbs still felt like lead and even breathing hurt. So he just stayed in the corner with the wall at his back.

After what might have been minutes or hours of drifting, movement out of the corner of his eye made him startle. Molly’s gaze snapped round and then his brow furrowed in bewilderment because there was his coat, floating closer to him through the air. As he watched, it draped itself over his front, smoothing itself fussily, and he felt a phantom pressure against his shoulders for just a moment – _pat, pat_.

His shirt, his pants, his smallclothes all came drifting over next, and were set down carefully and neatly around him. Molly finally managed to make himself uncurl enough to contemplate getting dressed again, emboldened and soothed by the coat’s familiar smells. But just as he was finished pulling his pants on, he saw _Caleb’s_ coat drifting over to him next, and now that he was a little ways out of the corner the strange, invisible force draped it over his back, instead, and then – _pat, pat_.

By then, even he could realize what was going on. _Thanks, Schmidt_ , Molly wanted to say, but words were still so very hard right now. Had he been sitting here for ten minutes? Or had Caleb cast this particular spell right away for perhaps the first time since Molly had known him?

He got his shirt on, shrugged into his coat and then, after a moment’s deliberation, drew Caleb’s coat back over his front, enjoying the texture and the weight born of countless spell components in countless pockets. As he did so, Schmidt filled a cup from the water basin and brought it over to him, waited patiently as Molly downed it, then brought him another one. It hurt to swallow, but the water eased the pain.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb said, and Molly _flinched_ and hated himself for it. Thankfully, Caleb didn’t seem to have noticed. He’d gotten to his feet, gotten dressed, and still had his back to Molly. But that wasn’t enough to disguise the fact that his voice still sounded watery and weak. “I, I am going to get Jester. Or Caduceus. S-Someone should see to your throat.” No mention of the scratches on his face.

“No,” Molly said, before Caleb had taken a step. It took him a second to understand why the very idea terrified him, and then he realized that all it would take was one look at the two of them and Caduceus would probably know and Jester would _definitely_ know and he absolutely could not deal with that right now. And yet, he’d recovered just enough of his wits to know that his impulse to hide what had happened was not one that should be indulged. So after a moment, he managed to force out an addendum: “Yasha.” And then: “Please.” She couldn’t do much in the way of healing, but hopefully it wouldn’t take much.

He saw Caleb nod, short and jerky, and then start towards the door again. “Wait,” Molly said, and Caleb waited, his hand frozen halfway to the doorknob. Molly opened his mouth, closed it, gritted his teeth.  Then he swallowed, swallowed again, and managed to say: “We should talk. About…that.”

Caleb laughed, little more than a hysterical giggle, no humor in it. “ _Ja_ ,” he said. “I, ah, all right, I mean, you’re right, we, w-we should.”

He finally turned away from the door, but kept his eyes on his feet as if there was a physical weight pressing his head down. Caleb all but dragged himself step by step back towards the bed, and then he settled down on his knees on one side of it, his head resting on one bandaged arm, his other hand picking at a stray thread in the sheets. It was easier to make himself move, with the promise of that barrier between them. Molly moved himself over to kneel on the other side of the bed, moved to mimic Caleb’s posture. Like this, neither of them were looking at one another but they were facing each other. There was a barrier between them, safe and sturdy but not _blocking_. Equal. Like this, they were equal. Even if the expanse of the mattress suddenly seemed far more weighty and significant to Molly than it ever had before.

“I lied to you,” Molly finally whispered. “A lot. About the things I know.” He felt his face getting hot with shame. “What I’ve done.”

It took Caleb a second to understand. Then he blanched, then his head snapped up to stare at Molly, his eyes wide and horrified. “ _Scheisse_ ,” he breathed. “Mollymauk, why? Wh-why would you do that, I would _never_ have—”

“I know,” Molly said, and winced. “That was why. I wanted you to like me. I wanted you to be, y'know. Interested in me.”

“I was _always_ —” Caleb stammered, before he closed his mouth hard enough for Molly to hear his teeth click together. “Mollymauk, we, we could have taken this so much more slowly if I had known. I w-would never _demean_ you for inexperience, especially when—” He paused, his expression twisting as if in pain, his eyes screwing shut as if to shield himself from an awful sight. Molly heard him struggling to breathe raggedly, visibly trying to force the words out.

Molly reached out slowly, carefully, across the bed to take one of Caleb’s hands in his own. Caleb immediately seized his hand in turn almost before he seemed to realize it. Then he managed to force an eye open, meet Molly’s gaze, and smile weakly.

“Especially when,” he said. “So much of my, ah, my _experience_ has been gained through, through p-pain, or force, or, or _necessity_.” Somehow, that word dripped with the most poison of them all. His face started to go as red as his hair, his gaze fell back to the bed, as Caleb added: “I enjoyed thinking of you…enjoying yourself, as I never have. I won’t deny that. But, but that was no reason for you t-to drag yourself down to my level.”

Molly felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, like all the breath was being driven from him again and his stomach felt sick and tight with horror. He’d _never_ known. He’d never _guessed_. How had he been this stupid, this thoughtless? “And I made you remember all of that.” He’d thought he was just teasing, he’d thought they were having fun swapping stories over shitty romance novels, and all of _this_ had been beneath the surface? He’d dredged up Caleb’s worst memories for a _laugh_?

Caleb shook his head with surprising fervor. “No, Molly,” he said, gentle and soothing despite _everything_. “Talking to you, it was, um. It was fun. It was good. It started to make me think that, that maybe this sort of thing _could_  be good. Even for me. I had never thought that way before. I had never had _reason_ to.” He worried at his lower lip, ducking his head once more. “And I fucked it up,” he mumbled. “Like always. Like everything. I’m sorry, Mollymauk, I am _so_ sorry for what I did to you. If, if you want me to tell the others, or stay away from you, or, or _leave_ , then I will understand.”

Molly did not answer right away. He turned Caleb’s words and everything they meant over and over in his mind, keeping his eyes on the sight of their joined hands to ground him.

What had happened wasn’t okay, but it wouldn’t be made okay by Caleb pulling away or drawing into himself. Molly didn’t want that. This wasn’t Caleb’s fault so much as the fault of all the people who had heaped years of abuse and pain and fear on his shoulders to the point that one bad confluence of events had made him crack beneath it.

He might have felt differently if Caleb had reacted differently. However, while Molly might not have known much about sex, he knew that he knew _people_ quite well. He felt confident that Caleb’s confusion, his grief, his contrition, all were genuine and heartfelt. He was scared and yet he was still determined not to let this happen again. This had been a fluke, an accident, a fire burned out of control.

Maybe together, they could help ensure it never happened again.

“I didn’t hate _all_ of it,” he finally said, smiling sheepishly, feeling his heart flutter hopefully at the look of surprise that flickered over Caleb’s face. “For what it’s worth? This started out really, _really_ good.” Caleb actually laughed, a weak little chuckle that nevertheless sounded genuine, and that emboldened Molly enough to add: “And the parts I hated probably weren’t that great for you either. So I wouldn’t mind doing this again. Maybe just with some ground rules in place. For both of us.”

Caleb looked like a man scarcely daring to hope. Molly squeezed his hand and only then did he draw in a shuddering breath. His eyes were overbright and shiny, but this time it was only with the threat of tears as he nodded just once. “All right,” he whispered. And then: “My hair. Please, ah, please don’t—” He mimed pulling it. It took Molly a second to understand, and then he flashed back to the moment before everything had gone wrong. _Ah_.

But it was a good realization to have, honestly. Knowing that there had been a concrete reason for Caleb to fall so fast and hard back into the past, knowing that it was something he could make sure to never do again. Besides, now he knew _why_ Caleb’s first instinct, upon getting lost in bad memories, had been to hurt someone. All throughout his life, he’d been taught that was what you _did_ when you had power over someone. In this one specific way and maybe in others, Caleb was a bundle of learned instincts and copied behavior, just like Molly was.

“Okay,” was all Molly said out loud. And then: “Easier done than said.” It was heartbreaking how obviously grateful Caleb looked, like he hadn't let himself expect even that small consideration. Molly took a second to marshal his thoughts, then added: “I’d rather no choking. That probably goes without saying.”

Caleb giggled again, then nodded. “But, but it’s good that you are saying it anyway,” he said.

“You know, you’re right.” Molly’s grin came easier this time. “Isn’t that how it always goes in the books? There’s always some big misunderstanding and woe is me, all hope is lost. But then they finally talk it out like adults and…poof. Happily ever after. Or at least for now.”

Caleb looked confused for a moment, but when understanding dawned, his face went so soft and warm that Molly’s chest hurt with a much sweeter pain. “That does seem to be the pattern, doesn’t it?” he murmured, and then brought Molly’s hand to his mouth to kiss. The warm, gentle press of his lips sent sparks all up Molly’s arm so that words became, momentarily, very difficult to string together again.

Somehow, what came out next was: “And, and I liked it when you were telling me what to do. So you don’t have to punish me if I fuck something up. Just tell me when I’m doing right and I will try my damndest to keep doing it.” If he lived another three years, he wasn’t sure he would have the words to express how bone deep appealing it was, the idea of being _good_ for Caleb. “Maybe that could even be good for you? Having power over someone and, and _not_ being a bastard about it.” Maybe having the chance and taking the time to do what had never been done for him would help him get even further away from his past.

A moment's hesitation, and then: “I will think about it,” Caleb said, and seemed like he meant it. Molly rewarded him for it by leaning over the bed for a kiss, and Caleb met him halfway.

Somehow, they still spent the evening curled up in bed together, even if they did so fully clothed. They talked over every potential pitfall they could think of and some they hadn’t been able to before, and hid their faces in the other’s shoulder or chest whenever things got too embarrassing or too much.

Eventually, Caleb reminded Molly that they should probably go and see Yasha. Molly went and brought her upstairs. He could tell that she absolutely knew at a glance at least something of what had happened. But she called up her celestial power to heal the bruises on Molly’s throat and the scratches on Caleb’s face all the same. More importantly, she didn’t ask any questions until the next night on watch when Molly felt that he might finally be in a fit state to give honest answers. 

 *  *  *

Months went by. Caleb and Molly slowly worked out a system for whenever circumstances and life on the road afforded them a night of privacy.

It would start with Molly asking Caleb a question, usually as he held Caleb close to him or cuddled up against him in turn, usually while pressing soft, lazy kisses to Caleb’s neck, his fingers, his cheeks.

That question was: “Do you want me to take care of you tonight?”

It was a question that meant a lot of things. It meant _do you need to come upstairs so I can treat you gently?_ It meant _do you want to lay down and let me massage the aches from your shoulders that you think no one sees you carrying?_

And _Just say the word and I’ll kiss you all over, I will run my hands over you without expectation, only the hope that you’ll forget_ before _a little more._

And _If you decide to let me undress you I will make you feel worshipped, never demeaned._

It meant _I’ll work you open so slow and careful that when I push inside you you’ll forget that pain could even exist. I’ll whisper to you how bright and brilliant and worthy you are as I do my damndest to make you whimper and sigh and sing for me._

Sometimes Caleb would answer with a whispered “please” or a short “ _ja_ ” or even just a nod. Sometimes he would bring one of Molly’s hands to his mouth to kiss as if in apology and say “I think I need to take it easy for tonight”, as if that was something that needed to be apologized for. When he said that, they would still retire upstairs together, but not necessarily together, and when they did they would spend a while with Caleb studying his books or else sitting at the windowsill petting Frumpkin, and Molly would pray over his swords and occupy himself with some cards. When they decided they were both ready for bed, they would curl up together. Molly would hold Caleb close to him, careful and protective, rubbing his back or stroking his hair and trying to pour all the love he felt into those points of contact alone.

Sometimes, whatever form it took, the sense of being loved and cared for so freely and utterly would overwhelm Caleb and he would break down in tears, clinging to Molly and sobbing like a man being scoured clean of something filthy.

But they both knew the tears were something he needed, too.

And sometimes, instead, Caleb would smile at Molly, would lean close and press a quick kiss to his lips before murmuring “I would rather take care of you tonight, instead.”

That led to nights like this, nights of Molly stripped down and tied hand and foot to the bed, blindfolded – but not gagged, not yet, neither of them were ready for that yet but maybe they would be some day. Caleb knelt beside him, just as naked, hard and aching, but not touching either of them, not yet. Instead, he held a blood red candle high up over Molly’s torso, tilting it just so every now and then to let the wax dribble down onto his lover’s skin. A few drips and splatters were already drying there, mingling with the tattoos.

Every time a new stream of wax hit Molly, he would whine softly or _sigh_ like he was only just remembering how to breathe, would writhe in his bonds but not out of any need to escape, only to chase the sensation even if they both knew Caleb would give only when he decided to. The buildup of wondering where the next splash of heat would come and when kept him right on the edge and he _adored_ it. Wax that would have badly burned a human felt like nothing more than the first press of a hot massage rock on his flesh and the tickly sensation of drying wax only helped the pleasure linger. The push and pull of tension and release, heat and cool, it was utterly engrossing and made it so, so easy for him to fall into that dark, safe space in his head where everything was simple and everything made sense because Caleb would take care of him.

Except…

Except…

“ _Shite_ ,” he hissed between his teeth. “Stop, _stop_.”

Immediately, he heard the faint sound of the candle being set down on the bedside table, a puff of air to blow out the flame. Then Caleb was moving to untie the ropes, thankfully starting with the ones at the ankles. “Are you all right?” Molly heard him ask. “What’s, what is the matter?”

“Nothing serious,” Molly hastened to say, knowing the pain in his voice made that sound like a lie. “Just—” He hissed as his leg reflexively tried to curl under him. “Leg cramp.”

He heard Caleb let out a sigh of relief. He immediately moved to gently, carefully, try and straighten Molly’s leg out. It still hurt like hell, and Molly let out a frustrated whine as his muscles protested. Caleb shushed him gently, reached back to pet his hair. “I know, I know it hurts. But I need to work it out, you know that. Here.” With a few deft, quick motions, he untied one of Molly’s wrists. “Squeeze my arm. Swear as much as you like.”

Molly did so, spitting out a few curses in Infernal as Caleb started to massage his protesting muscles. But his hands were warm from the candle, his fingers were deft and careful and gentle. After what was probably only a minute or two even if it felt like a minor eternity, the pins and needles and pain faded and Molly remembered how to relax. He slumped back against the pillows, panting, as Caleb moved to get his other wrist free. “’m fine,” he mumbled. “It was just that one.”

“I need to be sure,” Caleb said, in a tone of voice that brooked no disobedience. Then, with a note of wry amusement: “The candle will still be there when I am finished.”

Molly pouted but did not protest as Caleb started to gently massage first one arm, then the other, and finally his other leg. The massage felt far too nice to protest, the care behind it felt even nicer. “I think that fall from this morning just hit me harder than I thought,” he finally said.

He heard Caleb chuckle lightly. “It would be no more than you deserved,” he said, his voice warm and fond. “Practicing your circus tricks without Yasha there to catch you.”

“Fuck you!” Molly laughed, reaching out to try and swat Caleb on the shoulder without removing his blindfold first. He was proud of himself for managing to hit his arm instead. “You’re terrible.”

Caleb caught his hand before he could pull it away and…oh. _Oh_. Molly’s breath hitched, then left him as a long, shuddering sigh when he felt Caleb’s tongue tracing his fingers in just the most obscenely deliberate fashion. “I learned from the best,” his lover murmured, pressing a kiss to Molly’s palm. And then: “Well, the ropes will still be there for next time, too.”

“Yeah.” Much as Molly was loathe to admit it, he could rationally admit that keeping him tied when one leg had already put up a fuss was probably not the greatest idea. He finally thought to lift his hand and slip the blindfold off, the better to look up at Caleb and gauge his reactions. “Well. I’m sure we can think up some other ways to have fun.” Almost unconsciously, he found his fingers reaching down to toy with the leash and collar that graced his throat on nights like these.

Caleb’s gaze was drawn to it as if by a winch, and Molly laughed as the wizard reached out to grab it and tug him nearer by it – gentle but firm, as so much of his style of control was nowadays. Molly wound up laying languidly between Caleb’s spread legs, braced on an elbow, his legs stretched out easily behind him.

“And what did you have in mind, pet?” Caleb asked, low and breathless with want, his pupils blown wide in his pretty blue eyes, reaching out to stroke his thumb ever so tenderly down Molly’s cheek.

Molly licked his lips and smiled adoringly up at his love. “I’m glad you asked,” he chirped, then bent his head to take Caleb’s cock in his mouth, guided happily by the tug of the leash.


End file.
